


London Bridge Is Falling Down

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Bottom Joker (DCU), Choking, Come as Lube, Emotional Hurt, Gunshot Wounds, Joker (DCU) Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: A sequel to the Killing Joke comic in which Bruce decides - against his better judgment - to give in to his desires.
Relationships: Batjokes - Relationship, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	London Bridge Is Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

> Just a head up that Joker is pretty feminine in this because that's how I like to interpret him within the Batjokes ship. Also I apologize for any formatting issues, my computer is out to get me.

Bruce stood alone with hunched shoulders, pulling his thick overcoat closer and glancing towards the entrance of the dead end alley. He shuddered and the clicks of his chattering teeth echoed heavy in his ears. Despite the frigid temperature he was quite warm under his coat, but where the bone chilling wind had failed to make him shiver, his nervousness had skillfully succeeded. It was taking all of his willpower to just stand there as every fiber of his being screamed at him to run away and not look back; to steel himself once again and not let his burning curiosity and loneliness get the better of him. He checked his watch and felt the searing sting of disappointment: five minutes late.

“Of course,” he grumbled, shoving his hand back into his deep pocket. Shame burned his cheeks as he berated himself for thinking that a man like  _ him  _ would ever be capable of anything other than trying to make Gotham a living hell. But it had been three months since they’d started this desperate, forbidden dance, and Joker had been incredibly eager during all of their rendezvous. Joker had even gone so far as to drop the L-word once in the throes of passion. Granted, he’d been high as a kite, but the suppressed hopeless romantic in Bruce’s psyche wouldn’t allow him to forget that moment. 

He should’ve turned Joker back in the first second he’d seen him outside of that Asylum again, but he just couldn’t get their parting conversation out of his head. Joker, being so defiantly resigned to his fate, so hopeless looking, had done something to Bruce that had interfered with his ability to be impartial. Not to mention how happy Joker had looked when he’d finally made Bruce laugh. So instead of grabbing Joker by the scruff of his neck and dropping him back in Arkham, Bruce had pleaded again that Joker accept his help. This had resulted in a snarling argument and then, somehow, Joker’s lips locked onto Bruce’s and his slim legs wrapped around Bruce’s waist.

And that had been the end of Bruce’s resolve.

Bruce sighed and watched a rat slither along the wall opposite him. He could wait another five minutes, or he could leave and allow things to remain as they were, contenting himself with the furtive, guilty sex in abandoned warehouses and isolated rooftops. But no matter how much he entertained the idea, Bruce knew he would wait. That burning desire to know and be known, to not have to hide from people he cared about was slowly killing him. Things couldn’t go on forever like this; it stood to reason that Joker could lose interest and find someone more easily accessible, and who wasn't trying to put him behind bars. So the fear of losing his privileged access to that smooth milky skin, those rich green curls, and those expressive ruby lips kept him anchored, struggling with the realization that he may soon be a rejected lover if Joker decided not to show. He also grappled with the fact that he was about to reveal his identity to the most ruthless criminal in Gotham, which for some reason seemed less important at the moment.

Just as he was pulling his hand out of his pocket to check his watch for a second time, the scuffing tap of shoes on wet pavement echoed down the street and towards the alley. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat and slight panic tightened his throat.

_ “Stay,”  _ he growled to himself, squeezing his eyes closed.  _ “Breathe.” _

The footsteps arrived at the entrance to the alley and stopped. Bruce released the breath he’d been holding and slowly let his eyes fall open, then turned his head to stare at the source of the long shadow being cast over the pavement. Joker’s head tilted in confusion and it was only then that Bruce realized that he was still mostly hidden by the shadows.

“ _ Yoohooooo?  _ Bats?” Joker’s teasing voice echoed. “I do hope you brought protection, I left in a tizzy and forgot my wallet.”

Bruce stepped forward and squinted as the streetlight invaded his eyes. He could see Joker’s face more clearly now: his tweezed brows were high in surprise and he looked as shocked as Bruce felt terrified. But within seconds Joker had recovered and his expression sank down into a highly disappointed scowl.

“...Wayne? I was under the impression that I was going to meet a certain masked asshole. Why did he send a corporate pansy like  _ you _ ?” Joker sneered. He was getting antsy and glanced behind himself, expecting cops to jump out and whack him over the head any minute. “I could kill you. In fact, I  _ should _ .”

“I’m the asshole,” Bruce sighed. “Always have been.”

Joker fell mute and stared, a look of shocked disdain coloring his sharp features. Bruce’s heart plummeted and a wave of panic slammed into him. How could he have been  _ so stupid?  _ Bruce must’ve looked like he was about to bolt or puke because Joker’s face began to relax.

“So...does this mean I get limo rides and caviar and a personal masseuse now?” Joker tentatively chuckled, his lips arching up into a grin as he began to recover from the shock. The bastard was never able to take anything seriously. He was either about to stab Bruce in the neck or kiss him, it was impossible to tell.

“I reserve that for my dates who  _ don’t  _ try to kill me,” Bruce muttered. Joker barked out a staccato laugh and pocketed his gloved hands to hide his nervousness. However, Bruce’s astute observational skills allowed him to notice the slight tremor in Joker’s hands before they were hidden. Bruce felt himself relax; his lover seemed just as anxious as he’d felt while waiting.

“So...my place or yours?” Bruce asked, watching as Joker fidgeted. Joker glanced over at Bruce through his thick green lashes, now coy and regaining his confidence as Bruce began to display more of his own.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, darling, but the piers reek of week old sardines,” Joker teased, quick to reject the idea of hosting Bruce. At least he wasn't planning on holding Bruce captive, then. “And I can’t have my boys knowing I take rich playboy cock on the weekends, those buffoons can’t keep a secret to save their sorry lives.”

Bruce held out his arm and his heart thumped behind his ribs when Joker’s slender elbow interlocked with Bruce’s.

“I hope you like wine, I never drink it and I need someone to appreciate it.”

  
  
  
  
  


They walked in silence for the most part, keeping to the alleys to avoid being seen. Both of them were struggling to navigate this new reality and Bruce’s vulnerability. Joker was uncharacteristically silent, only responding when Bruce attempted to make conversation, and eventually Bruce fell silent too. But instead of being uncomfortable, Bruce found that he quite enjoyed it. It was so... _ normal,  _ if he dared to call it that. Although, Bruce still felt sick to his stomach knowing what Gordon and Barb would think of him if they found out what he was doing.

And the rest of Gotham, for that matter.

When they arrived at the gate to the estate Bruce unlocked it and let Joker through. While he was locking it back, Joker was taking in the sheer magnitude of Bruce’s home. A gleeful expression took over his angular features and he turned to face Bruce.

“It’s rather broody, Bats. Maybe a paint job could brighten it up. Maybe-”

“Please don’t say green,” Bruce interrupted, cringing. Joker scowled and drew his chin up.

“I was going to say  _ maybe you could add more trees,”  _ Joker finished with a glare. 

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Bruce surrendered as Joker took off for the manor. Suddenly Joker began to run, his long purple coat trailing out behind him like Batman’s cape.

“Last one to the door’s a rotten egg,” he shrieked, now setting a furious pace that Bruce wasn’t even sure he could match. Bruce bolted, wincing when his dress shoes bit into his heels, but he was unwilling to lose so he pressed onward. Joker was laughing ahead of him; Bruce had always been surprised that someone as malnourished as Joker could manage to run so fast. While steadily closing the gap between them, Bruce glanced ahead of Joker and faltered when he saw that Joker was quickly approaching a rock that was jutting out of the ground. Bruce was much more accustomed to making things out in the dark, having trained himself to be able to do so, but Joker wasn’t.

“HEY!” Bruce yelled, driving himself forward as fast as he could. “WATCH OUT!”

“I”M NOT FALLING FOR TH-” Joker began to yell back, but his words were suddenly cut short into a scream of surprise as his foot caught on the rock and he went hurdling face-first into the ground.

_ “Shit!”  _ Bruce hissed, hesitating when he came up to Joker’s prone form. “Hey! Can you hear me?”

Joker sputtered and lifted his head. Blood was gushing from his nose and bottom lip. Bruce felt a pang deep in his stomach and kneeled, slipping an arm under Joker’s torso to pull him up. “Keep leaning forward, letting it run down your throat will make you sick.”

Joker gurgled out a small chuckle and let Bruce lift him into a sitting position.

“After all the bloody noses you’ve given me, you think I don’t know how to handle it?”

“You keep giving me no choice but to subdue you with force,” Bruce said defensively. “I didn’t  _ want  _ to.”

“Oh, that’s a shame, cuz I  _ really  _ enjoyed it,” Joker purred.

Bruce blinked and felt his cheeks burn. He quickly turned his face away but the other man had seen the change even in the dim evening light.

“Oh boopsie, should we consider this our anniversary? The first day I made the mighty Bat  _ blush,”  _ Joker bragged with a simpering tone that rose into a yelp when Bruce picked Joker up and slung his slender form over a broad shoulder.

“Just shut up and breathe through your mouth.”

Bruce felt a comforting warmth begin to spread through him as he silently carried Joker the rest of the way to Wayne manor. Things were actually going...well. There hadn’t been any stabbing or shooting or screaming (yet), and Joker was obviously enjoying himself. But something worried him: that twisting pang he’d felt back there upon hearing the dull thud of Joker’s face connecting with the ground. He’d been  _ afraid.  _ And now he was afraid of the fact that he’d been afraid.

He knew tonight could massively interfere with his ability to keep Joker reigned in and protect Gotham, but he still kept walking, allowing himself to be selfish just this once.

Bruce opened the door and Joker stirred; Bruce felt a hand splay across his back as Joker twisted to look at the foyer. The touch raised goosebumps all over Bruce's arms.

“ _ Oooooooooh,  _ darling, why didn’t you bring me here sooner?” Joker gasped while ogling the heirloom chandelier above their heads.

**“** _ Quiet,”  _ Bruce growled, tightening his hold on Joker’s legs. “I need to make sure Alfred is gone.”

“Alfred? Who’s that, your other boyfriend? I would promise not to claw his eyes out but a man like me - OOF!” he huffed when Bruce abruptly dropped him. Bruce checked something on his watch and his furrowed brows relaxed; Alfred’s signal was still in town. He was finishing business for Bruce and would very likely be kept away from the manor until tomorrow.

“You just gonna leave a boy down here to get cold?” Joker’s voice was nasally now, as both nostrils were becoming blocked by blood. 

“Follow me,” Bruce said, offering a hand and pulling Joker to his feet. Bruce led him to the main dining room, which was quite a task because Joker kept trying to wander off and explore the mansion when he thought Bruce wasn’t paying attention. Finally, they were there, and Bruce forced Joker down into a chair by the shoulders.

“Do  _ not  _ go anywhere,” Bruce warned. “Floor sensors will tell me your location so there’d be no use hiding.”

Joker begrudgingly agreed and Bruce was surprised to find him still sitting in the chair when he got back. Bruce walked over and sat next to him, pulling out the bottle of wound glue and slipping a hand up into Joker’s hair to get him to lean his head back. Joker watched him in curiosity, flinching slightly when Bruce applied the substance into each side of his nose.

“What are you doing?” Joker whispered, his tone now much more solemn than it had been just minutes ago.

“Wound sealant, you should be able to blow your nose in a minute or-”

“No. I mean what are you  _ doing?”  _ Joker interrupted with a pointed rise of his brows.

Bruce felt like a deer in the headlights. Calmly, Joker watched him, waiting for his reasoning. But Bruce wasn’t ready for that conversation, he might never be. He could never admit to himself what had been happening over the course of the past few weeks.

“I don’t know,” was all Bruce could muster. Desperate to change the subject, he abruptly drew away from Joker and cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”

“Depends what kinda hunger we’re talking about,” Joker mused, rolling his eyes when Bruce remained tight-lipped. “So far you’re not exactly making a good impression, darling. Why are you so angry all the time?”

“Like you said earlier, I’m just an asshole.”

Joker snorted and went about the task of cleaning his nose, watching Bruce stand when he finished. Joker followed suit when Bruce paused and held out his arm again.

“Well, if you won’t talk, I suppose I’ll just have to speculate,” Joker said, winding his arm through Bruce’s for a second time. Bruce eyed him warily and began leading him to the kitchen. Joker was pushing closer against him now and it made him uneasy, although he didn’t know why.

“You’re easy to read, Batsy. You think you’re so stoic but people are never as good as they think they are at hiding their secrets,” Joker murmured. “You’re lonely as they come, cooped up in this dark tower all the time and roaming the streets at night. I’ve seen bums on the street who are more fulfilled than you, Mr. Wayne.”

“What’s it to you?” Bruce asked, a sharp edge in his voice.

“Well a man’s gotta wonder why you chose  _ me  _ of all people to keep you company, to reveal yourself to. I’ve got you by the balls now and I could do anything I wanted.” Joker’s voice sounded more amused than threatening but Bruce knew that the more Joker was enjoying himself, the more dangerous he was liable to be.

“You seem to have forgotten that I’m twice your weight and could murder you in this house and nobody would know,” Bruce said. Joker laughed delightedly and smacked Bruce on the arm.

“Now  _ there’s  _ the man I was looking for!”

“What about you?” Bruce said as he held open the door to the elaborate kitchen. Joker blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why have you not slit my throat with one of your lovely cards yet? Why haven’t you poisoned me yet?”

Joker looked taken aback but quickly recovered himself with a dirty grin. He gestured flamboyantly at Bruce’s body and adopted a  _ you’re kidding, right?  _ look.

“Anyone would be crazy to kill a man with dick as good as yours, pumpkin.”

“Do you want blackmail material?” Bruce asked, moving over to the fridge to pull the door open and squint at the contents. “Want to torture me socially and make me give up the cowl?”

Joker remained silent so Bruce pulled out the pan of Alfred’s leftover lasagna and turned to face him.

“What’s your theory?” Joker prodded, toying with the collar of the elegant purple coat that matched his gloves. “I got to do you now you can do me.”

“You’re just like me,” Bruce said after a few moments. Joker didn’t object, he only pursed his lips. They were a deeper shade today, more of a black cherry than a ruby tint. “You have nobody in this world who cares about you so you latched onto the first person to give you serious attention and dedicate time to you. You’re worthless and I gave you worth.”

“You obviously missed your calling to be a psychologist,” Joker said wryly. He sounded unbothered but he avoided Bruce’s gaze by poking at the lasagna dish as Bruce plated two slices. “But we’re not the same, just so you know, Bats. Gotham would mourn you for decades if I finally fulfilled my dream of killing you, but if you killed me tonight nobody would even bother to bury me.”

A sudden, unwelcome image flashed through Bruce’s mind of Joker lying face down in a puddle of rain, his body crushed and mangled, presumably after Bruce had let him fall off the side of a building. Bruce’s stomach lurched and he pushed the lasagna away, shaking his head.

“You’re wrong,” Bruce insisted. Joker cocked his head and his eyes suddenly looked  _ hungry,  _ like those of a starving man who’d just laid eyes on a full course meal.

“Oh? Why am I wrong?”

“I would miss you,” Bruce admitted, barely able to get the words out. They felt foreign to him, and it felt like his mind was a million miles away, removed entirely from the current situation.

Joker looked as though Bruce had just smacked him. Bruce  _ felt  _ as though someone had just smacked him. His brain resumed its yelling, begging him to haul Joker to Arkham and be done with this, but he just couldn’t. Before Bruce could say anything Joker burst into laughter and doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes. Bruce couldn’t tell if they were tears of humor or pain because now Joker’s face was hidden from view, face pointed down at the floor and covered by his semi-curly hair.

“I’m afraid I must give up my crown, you’ve truly served up the king of jokes,” Joker wheezed, shaking his head and struggling for breath. “My god, the Bat has surpassed the Joker.”

Desperate to prove his point, Bruce grabbed Joker by the hair and dragged him up; Joker could barely take in a gasp of air before their lips were smashed together forcefully enough to bust Joker’s lip again. Joker stumbled backwards and was sharply pressed against the counter, completely helpless against the weight of Bruce’s body. The coppery taste of blood, a taste Bruce was intimately familiar with, invaded his mouth from the cut on Joker’s lip. Bruce pulled away for air and Joker coughed, a look of confused disdain on his face.

“What?” Bruce asked, worried at the change.

“Well, you see...the man who caught my intrigue was the Bat...not Bruce Wayne. I’ve seen this face so many times that I’m afraid I’ve become jaded. It’s simply not the same,” Joker mused. As he spoke, he reached out to trace the side of Bruce’s nose with his gloved hand. “Although, I think you’d look better with a bit more  _ color,”  _ he cackled, and suddenly a razor sharp card was slicing through Bruce’s cheek. Bruce had been too preoccupied with Joker’s soft touch to notice what his other hand had been doing. 

Bruce yelled and shoved Joker away, barely able to regain his equilibrium before Joker was on him, skinny hands clamped down around Bruce’s throat with a shocking amount of force. Bruce gurgled against the restraint, swinging his arm to deliver a well-placed blow in Joker’s abdomen and reverse their roles. As Joker cringed away from him, Bruce noted that his cruel lover was now hard. It seemed gentleness would not be an option, and Bruce wasn’t even sure he wanted it to be.

_ “Hkkkgghhh,”  _ Joker choked, clawing at Bruce’s large hand that was now clamped firmly across his pale throat.

“I think I know a better place for this,” Bruce grunted. He hauled Joker up by the throat and swung him forward, wincing when Joker’s head cracked against the refrigerator door. Joker let out a small cry of pain but then broke into his signature laughter, going limp when Bruce snatched him up by the collar and began dragging him out into the hallway. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Joker rasped. There were already marks on his throat and there would definitely be more by the time they were done. Bruce dragged Joker into the nearest elevator and let go of Joker’s collar, allowing him to stand again but still watching him with a calculating gaze. Joker’s coat now had blood all down the front of it. His dark lipstick was smeared, and some of his eyeliner was melting down onto his lower eyelids. Bruce felt his body reacting to the sight; as beautiful as Joker was when he wasn’t falling apart at the seams, Bruce couldn’t help but realize that he would always prefer Joker bleeding and messy.

The elevator dinged and announced that they were on the bedroom level. Bruce stepped out and Joker followed, the sharp tap of his shiny wingtip shoes putting Bruce on edge. As soon as they stepped into the bedroom Joker’s patience snapped. His smaller body slammed into Bruce’s, sending them both stumbling into the bed. But this time the intent wasn’t to wound. Bruce was splayed on his back and Joker took full advantage of the position to slip down and start pulling at the buttons of his pants.

“Damn these fucking fancy pants, why do rich men always wear such complicated clothes,” Joker snarled, finally tearing the buttons off and ripping down the zipper. 

“Exactly how many rich men have you slept with?” Bruce asked, a spike of jealousy coloring his words. Joker picked up on it and smirked, reaching up to pat Bruce’s muscular belly through his sweater.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many freaks attend your adorable little dinner parties. But don’t you worry your pretty little head, boopsie, because you’re the only Bat in my belfry now.”

And with that, Joker had Bruce’s briefs open. He paused, struggling to tug off his gloves and then tossed them across the room. Bruce inhaled sharply when cool fingers slipped around the overheated skin of his erection, squeezing experimentally and setting a slow pace as Joker sought to discover what Bruce enjoyed.

“I still can’t believe I haven’t given you a good old handy,” Joker purred, pushing up Bruce’s shirt and leaning forward to plant a series of kisses along his trimmed happy trail. Bruce reached down and twined his fingers into Joker’s hair, tugging until Joker let out a tiny mewl of pain. Joker’s hand sped up and squeezed tighter; Bruce realized with a jolt that the excitement of the night had revved him up too much and he would need to use his stamina sparingly.

“Enough,” Bruce groaned. Joker obediently let go and Bruce rolled, pushing himself up as Joker slumped over onto his left side. Bruce backed away and took hold of Joker’s right leg. He slowly pulled off the shoe and sock, then repeated this for the other foot, and then he was pulling Joker’s pants - which were quite a bit tighter than usual - down to let them drop to the floor. Joker was wearing satin purple panties that Bruce was sure he'd stolen from the lady’s section of some department store. Joker noticed Bruce’s inquisitive glance and shrugged, rolling over onto his back.

“You can’t blame me for getting dolled up,” Joker pouted. 

Joker moaned when Bruce slipped broad hands over his hips and pulled the lingerie down. The noise morphed into a gasp when Bruce leaned down and caught the panties with his teeth, pulling them all the way down Joker’s slender legs. When Bruce had them off he leaned over and dropped them on the nightstand.

“I think I should keep hold of these as evidence in case you try to pull anything tonight,” Bruce teased, sending Joker into a fit of ecstatic giggles. Next Bruce fixed his attention on Joker’s cock, which was flat against his belly. Bruce had seen it at least five times now during their trysts but every time he did, Bruce only became more fixated on it. The shaft was just as bone white as the rest of Joker’s skin, but the head was a light, pleasing rosy shade, and the lack of pigmentation exposed a myriad of delicate blue veins that drove Bruce insane.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Joker huffed. Awkwardly, he shuffled closer and Bruce took hold of his hips again. Bruce lowered himself to his knees and pulled Joker closer until his legs were hanging off the bed, then Bruce lowered his head and took all of Joker’s cock in one smooth motion.

_ “Fuck,”  _ Joker swore as he balled the comforter in his fists. It seemed he was just as eager as Bruce, perhaps even more so.

Bruce bobbed his head roughly, hollowing his cheeks and pushing his face into the base of Joker’s dick with every downward movement. Joker was slightly smaller than average, so Bruce could fit the entirety of him without gagging. Likewise, Joker could deep throat Bruce with only minimal struggle despite Bruce’s size. They fit together like a puzzle, and the thought comforted Bruce because it made his desire feel validated. If they fit together so well in every way possible, maybe it was fate driving their connection instead of Bruce’s weakness. Maybe in some other world they were living a normal life, making love every night before falling asleep in their bed, then waking up and going to brunch with friends. This alternate reality fantasy was something Bruce frequently allowed himself to indulge in, but before Joker had complicated things that fantasy had only existed for his beloved parents.

Bruce mentally shook himself and forced these thoughts from his mind as Joker let out a particularly desperate groan. His painted nails were scraping Bruce’s scalp and the sensual pain made Bruce’s cock throb, triggering a moan deep in his throat. Joker tensed and Bruce pulled back slightly, preparing himself for the warm flood he knew was coming.

“No, stand up,” Joker cried with urgency, jaw clenched with the strain of fighting off his orgasm. Bruce pulled away and obeyed, slightly confused until Joker got up and began to work himself to completion.

_ “Ah, Bats,”  _ Joker gasped, reaching up to brace himself by hooking an arm over Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce stroked a hand up and down Joker’s ribs and the touch sent Joker over the edge. He came, crying out  _ “Batman!”  _ as he spilled over Bruce’s erection. Bruce felt hurt over the fact that Joker’s eyes were screwed shut; he was obviously envisioning the mask instead of Bruce’s face. But Bruce knew that to wish otherwise was unrealistic since Joker had technically only met him less than an hour ago. So once Joker was finished, Bruce walked to his closet without explanation, leaving Joker to watch in curiosity. He pulled open a hidden compartment and grabbed his spare mask; he stored a second suit here in case of emergency but tonight he would be using it for a very different purpose. Bruce slipped it over his head and adjusted the eye coverings, then turned to face Joker, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“ _ That’s  _ more like it.”

Bruce advanced, spreading Joker’s cum over himself and finally moving in for the main event. He crawled up onto the bed and settled himself over Joker, burning this moment into his memory in case this was the only remotely tender moment they ever shared together. Bruce reached over to the nightstand for a lubricated condom but Joker stopped him with a look of raging lust.

“I’d prefer it raw this time, darling.”

Bruce agreed after some hesitation; ever since this had been going on, he’d been desperate to experience their couplings without a boundary. After all, no other boundaries seemed to exist in their relationship. As Joker’s legs wrapped around him, Bruce reached down to guide himself and eased past the tight ring of muscle, pausing when Joker hissed in pain. The cum provided enough slickness, and Bruce suspected that Joker had likely prepared himself with lubricant before their meeting in the alley, but the stretch was still intense. Despite the pain Joker pushed against Bruce, desperate to get him hilted so Bruce’s dick could hit that glorious sweet spot.

_ “Fuck me, Bats,”  _ Joker ordered. Bruce hesitated; the idea of hurting Joker was becoming more and more distasteful the longer this night went on. But Joker whined and Bruce couldn’t help but give in, so he thrusted hard until he was all the way inside. The slick heat was  _ divine,  _ and god Joker was always so tight. Joker keened and begged for him to move, so Bruce did, going slowly for all but a minute before channeling more force into his movements. Joker loved it rough, he  _ needed  _ it rough, and Bruce was no different. Soon they’d fallen into a desperate rhythm; Bruce growling as he thrusted hard enough to knock the bed into the wall, and Joker writhing like a feral cat, rocking in tandem with Bruce’s movements and choking as Bruce instinctively strangled him.

It was all too much for Bruce’s senses and he found himself close to the precipice sooner than he liked, but Joker didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed incredibly smug at the fact that he was blowing Bruce’s usually impressive stamina out of the water tonight.

“Cum in me, Bruce,” Joker managed to wheeze through the hold that Bruce had on his bruised throat. His green hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his lipstick was smeared all over himself and Bruce’s stern, masked face. The sight, along with the fact that Joker had opted to use Bruce’s real name, shoved Bruce over the edge. He came hard, staring down into Joker’s wide eyes, which were now fixated on him because of the mask. Bruce kept up the pace despite the discomfort of overstimulation and Joker had his second orgasm just a few seconds after Bruce’s first. His eyes rolled back and he was louder this time, babbling  _ yes  _ and  _ oh, God! _ as he rode the waves of his high.

“Shit,” Bruce breathed. Joker panted out a satiated laugh when Bruce let go of Joker’s throat and rolled over onto his back. Joker coughed and Bruce suddenly remembered the wine that he kept stored in his nightstand for dates. He slipped off the bed while Joker made himself comfortable, pulling open the bottom cabinet and retrieving two bottles.

“Screaming Eagle cabernet, or Dom Pérignon champagne?”

“Do I look like a man who knows the difference?” Joker asked with a tired scoff. “Whatever gets me drunk, dear.”

“Fair enough.”

Bruce poured Joker a glass of the cabernet and handed it to him, then walked off to the bathroom to get wet and dry towels. He startled himself when he saw his reflection in the mirror, then sighed and pulled off the mask. After letting it fall to the floor he braced himself against the sink and contemplated what to do next. He could either drive Joker to Arkham or let him stay the night. Obviously the second option wasn’t smart and no doubt Joker would escape unless Bruce stayed up to keep an eye on him. A wave of nausea suddenly overtook Bruce and he stumbled to the toilet, heaving although there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. What would Barbara say if she knew Bruce was letting Joker sleep in his bed, if she knew everything that had just happened? No doubt it would be taken as a horrific betrayal. Not only that, but what would  _ Alfred  _ think? Bruce couldn’t bear the idea of Alfred being disappointed in him.

After a few minutes of wallowing in self disgust, Bruce warmed the wet towels again with hot water and made his way back into the bedroom. But when he got to the bed Joker was already asleep, curled tightly into the thick layers of comforters and sheets, so Bruce cleaned himself up and got dressed in his pajama robe. He didn’t want to wake Joker so it looked like the decision was made for him. Instead of getting into bed, Bruce settled himself into an armchair by the fireplace with a book that he’d meant to finish months ago.

Now, he only had to wait.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Bruce was jolted awake by a scream, or rather, a series of screams. He jumped up out of the chair he’d fallen asleep in and sent his book flying. Joker was thrashing in the bed and piercing screams were ripping out of him; it sounded as though someone was stabbing him to death. Panicked, Bruce hurried over and relaxed ever so slightly when he recognized that what he was seeing was a night terror; he’d had them all the time after the deaths of his parents and it had taken years for the terrors to go away.

“Joker!” Bruce yelled, pinning Joker’s body down with a firm hand on his chest so that he didn’t fall off the bed and hurt himself. Joker was slightly foaming at the mouth and his eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling as his face twisted in horror.

“JEANNIE!!!” Joker shrieked, breaking into another round of screams as Bruce tried to wake him. Bruce had no idea who Jeannie was because Joker was insistent on not talking about his past, but obviously it had been someone Joker cared about before the Ace accident. 

Bruce knew that it would be best not to wake Joker but the man was thrashing too violently; he could break a bone if he slammed his arm against the headboard. So Bruce grabbed Joker by the shoulders and shook him, shaking until Joker began blinking and his eyes focused on Bruce’s face. There was silence for a moment and Bruce realized he’d made a grave mistake; Joker lunged at him with enough force to send them flying backwards. They hit the ground with a thud and Joker landed a solid punch to Bruce’s chin, slamming his teeth together hard enough that he heard a small  _ crack  _ echo in his skull and felt a twinge of pain in his front lower teeth. Bruce managed to roll away but Joker followed him, snatching the back of Bruce’s robe as he struggled to stand. 

Before Bruce knew it they were both on their feet and Joker was ready to lunge again, but then the heavy doors to Bruce’s bedroom banged open. They both froze, staring at the figure in the doorway. A gun went off and time slowed; Bruce watched in shock as a bullet tore through Joker’s chest and lodged in the wall. Someone was screaming and Bruce realized it was him. He rushed the person and slammed into them, only to realize when he had them pinned against the wall that it was Alfred. His watch must’ve notified him that Alfred had arrived home, but he’d been asleep and had missed the notification.

“Bruce! What are you doing?? Let go of me at once!”

Bruce let go and whirled around, running back into the bedroom only to find that Joker was gone, as was the extra robe that Bruce had laid out for him, and the bedroom window was open.

“GODDAMNIT!” Bruce yelled, rushing to his closet and struggling into the spare suit.

“Master Bruce! What in god’s name was the Joker doing in here? How did he know-”

Alfred was cut short when Bruce turned to face him in the dim light of the room. The lipstick marks on Bruce’s chin that he'd forgotten to wipe off, the purple panties on the nightstand, and the mess in the bed gave it away; no words were necessary to communicate the caliber of Bruce’s sin.

“My God,” Alfred breathed, looking absolutely shellshocked as Bruce rushed past him. Bruce hopped out of the window and found the trail of blood. It dropped down onto the balcony below Bruce’s and went back into the house; Joker had somehow found his way through the mansion and out of the front door in the minute it had taken for Bruce to get ready. Shame burned Bruce like a red hot iron and he knew he would have to face Alfred’s judgment when he got back, but his concern for Joker was more important right now.

“JOKER!!” Bruce yelled when he reached the steps of the manor entrance, but no reply greeted him. So he set off as quickly as he could, turning on the analytics in his mask to track the blood since it was still dark outside. He tracked and tracked until he finally found Joker slumped against a tree, barely conscious.

“Joker!” Bruce cried. Bruce knelt down to pick Joker up and called the Batmobile with his GPS locator. “Hang in there. Please. For me.”

Joker groaned as Bruce stood waiting for the car. Blood was running from the side of his mouth and he seemed unable to speak; Alfred must’ve punctured a lung. Bruce loaded him into the Batmobile as fast as possible and tore out of the gravel driveway, flooring it with reckless abandon. The smell of blood was strong and Joker was now fully unconscious, gurgling slightly; Bruce could barely contain his terror as he skidded to a stop at the nearest emergency room entrance three minutes later. He balked at the blood pooled in the floor of the car and pulled Joker out, rushing through the door. Bruce yelled for help and berated the nurses for their hesitation when they noticed that it was the Joker he wanted them to treat. In a moment of rage, Bruce grabbed the nearest nurse by the shirt and pulled her close enough that their noses were touching.

“If he dies, you will all answer with your own lives,” he threatened in a murderous hiss. The nurse whimpered and he let her go, turning to watch as they rushed Joker towards the operating theater. Joker’s eyes were open again and his gaze locked with Bruce’s for an excruciating moment before he was taken through the doors.  _ Help me,  _ his eyes screamed,  _ please don’t leave me alone again!  _

But Bruce had to leave. He had to re-sort his priorities or this vigilante life he’d built would all come crashing down and Gotham would lose its greatest protector. He drove to nowhere in particular, simply patrolling the streets in order to avoid the agonies of wondering if Joker was still alive, what Alfred would say when Bruce got back, and what was going to happen now that Joker knew his identity. He would stay in this limbo for as long as he could, allowing himself to be selfishly numb and avoid dealing with his problems instead of giving into his feelings or facing his consequences.

After all, tonight had proven just how selfish he was; the camel’s back had already been broken and a few more indulgent straws would make no difference.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! <333


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